Potential
by Lucinda
Summary: Post S5 finale. The Watcher's Council asks Giles to go to Toronto to find a potential Slayer that they lost. Crossover with Forever Knight.
1. part 1

Potential  
  
author: Lucinda  
rating: pg/pg 13  
main characters: Rupert Giles, Natalie Lambert  
Pairings: Tracy/Vachon, Natalie/Giles  
disclaimer: I do not hold any legal rights to any characters from either Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Forever Knight.  
distribution: TNL, Twisting, Paula, Cat if she wants it.  
note: set after the finale of season 5, going promptly AU for the BtVS aspects, AU from before 'Last Knight' (the series finale) for the FK side.  
note 2 :words in colons: are the other speaker in a telephone conversation.   
  
  
Rupert Giles was staring at his wall, epmpty teacup in hand. Buffy was dead, his purpose for being in Sunnydale... shattered on the concrete. He felt lost, floundering for purpose, for focus. He was supposed to be the organized one, not... not some broken man staring into space.  
  
The telephone rang, and he was dimmly aware of Willow answering it. The sound of her voice grew more agitated, and she came over to him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears, fierce with conflicting emotions. "It's somebody named Martin Sommersby from the Council of Watchers. He's demanding to talk to you. I could hang up on him if you want..."   
  
He shook his head, knowing that he would eventually have to deal with them. Even if... even if Buffy had only been gone for a few painfully short weeks. "Pass it over, I can't put off talking to them forever."  
  
:Rupert Giles? I've been asked to... there is a slight concern among a section of the council. It appears that there may have been a potential Slayer in Toronto... and if so, she's entirely slipped through our system.: The voice on the other end had the accent of home, of academia, and carefully protected abstract knowledge.  
  
He felt something inside of him go cold. "You can't possibly be suggesting that I assume the duty of Watching over someone else?"  
  
:No, no! Nothing like that. We just... to put it bluntly, if this girl... woman... We don't know anything about her beyond the fact that we don't know. That means tht if there's a potential Slayer, she most likely has no idea of the supernatural, and little chance of becoming active, considering that Toronto is pretty quiet on the demon front. But if there is a potential, we thought it would be good to know. The potential is passed in families, you know.:  
  
"You want me to go to Toronto, seeking an unknown female of undetemined age who isn't a Slayer, most likely will never be a Slayer, and find out who she is so that the council might spy on her future hypothetical daughters?" He began to feel a burning outrage.  
  
:That depends on who you ask. Some people are a bit curious what sort of a career a potential Slayer would choose if left on their own. And some people think that having you leave Sunnydale might help you heal.: There was a tone that was supposed to be soothing in Martin Sommersby's voice.  
  
For several long moments, Giles was silent, his mind turning over Martin's words. On the one hand, his mind came up with vivid, horrible images of a young woman, confused about strange things, desperately seeking answers. But... "The Council fired me over the Crucinominum. Therefore, why should I do anything for the council?"  
  
:There are steps in place to get you reinstated.: Martin's voice was low, almost dull. :Quenton Travers has lost his position as Head of the Council over that and a few other... judgements calls that went badly. The new head has fond memories of you, and made the remark that if we don't change a bit with the times, we won't be able to functiion anymore. He's even... ugghh, even demanded that the non-mystical texts be scanned onto the computer system.:  
  
Conflicting emotions surged through Giles. "I'll... consider your words very carefully. Thank you and have a good day."  
  
Hanging up the phone, he sighed, attempting to take a sip of tea. "My tea... Willow, is there any more tea? My cup seems to be empty."  
  
With a small smile, she handed him a fresh cup. "What was all of that about? I gathered that the Council wants you to do something, and something about a not the Slayer? I'm feeling a bit confused."  
  
"Apparently, there might be or might have been a potential Slayer in Toronto. They aren't sure and want me to go find out. To find her, find out what she does, how old she is... If she's over a certain age, the liklihood of her ever being called is so slim as to be practically non-existant. But... the potential can be passed to any children that she might have." Giles sighed, sipping at the tea.  
  
Willow sighed, dropping into the chair across from him. "You're thinking about it, aren't you? Finding her. Making sure that she's okay."  
  
"Yes. But... I have duties here..." Giles felt his voice trail away. His duties... Anya would be more than delighted to take over the store. He had no Slayer to guide. And he hadn't been Watching very well over the past few weeks.  
  
Willow touched his hand, her eyes full of compassion. "Maybe it would do you a bit of good to have a bit of time away from Sunnydale? It's... it's still raw for you, for all of us. If you go try to figure out who she is... maybe it would give you a start on healing? And the council of the stuffy doesn't have to hear anything back from you."  
  
"Are you sure that... You and the others will be alright?" He felt hopeful. Willow had made a lot of sense, and the idea of being away from the Hellmouth sounded so tempting.  
  
Willow gave a small, weak smile. "Go to Toronto. We will be just as alright as if you stayed here being miserable with us. We'll have the books if anything comes up, but... everything's been quiet."  
  
"Alright. Toronto it is then." A decision made, Giles felt oddly better. Finishing his tea, he went upstairs, already debating what to pack.  
  
end part 1. 


	2. parts 2 and 3

Rupert Giles began his travel plans, and also decided that since the Council wanted him to do this as a favor for them, they should be willing to provide any possibly useful information that they might have on this. After all, Toronto was a large city, a place that almost two and a half million people called home. If all the Council had was 'a potential Slayer, presumably too old to be called' that still left easily a million people, a task far too daunting for him to volunteer to saddle himself with.  
  
After a rather lengthy and expensive phone call, he'd been promised that copies of the 'limited information' that the Council had would be shipped to him. That should help reduce his task from a Herculean effort to merely a task of great difficulty. He was hoping that there might be something, a listing of families, a handful of names, possibly even photographs. Something to make his task a bit less of a wild goose chase.  
  
When the packet of information arrived, there was in some cases both more and less than he'd hoped for. There were extensive descriptions and histories of some of the bloodlines, including pictures of previous Slayers and Potentials, families that had Watchers in their ancestry, families that carried certain gifts and talents. But how was this going to help him find who it was? Did he just...  
  
"Willow? Can you do a search on the computer to determine if there are any females of several families say... over fifteen and under forty? The Council has narrowed the possibilities from one and a quarter million to someone from one of a dozen families, but if I can narrow that a little more..." Hopefully, Willow wouldn't tell him that he was on his own. Her assistance had been invaluable on numerous occasions. While he was getting better, he still wouldn't know where or how to start to create such a listing of names.  
  
She looked at him, her face still pale, her eyes still red from too many hours crying, and gave him a tiny smile. Compared to the expressions from before, it was a bare ghost of a smile, but it was far better than they'd seen recently. "I can start looking if you leave me the list of names. It might take me a while, and your flight has a deadline. If I find any names after you have to go, I'll send them to your email account. I can also try to get a little more information of some of them, addresses, phone numbers..."  
  
"I'm not asking for any illegal information, Willow." A thread of alarm passed though him. He didn't want Willow to risk trouble helping him.  
  
There was a small chuckle. "No, silly. Address and phone number from the phonebook. Illegal would be getting their medical history. I just figured that if I could get some idea where they live, it could help you find them."  
  
"oh... well, that would certainly be useful. And I am capable of checking my email, even if it is a rather... well, electronic and imprecise means of communication." He smiled a bit, hoping that his joke would lighten the mood a little bit, knowing that humor wasn't his strong point.  
  
There was a hint of laughter in her eyes as she looked up at him, her expression mock-serious. "But it's so much faster than sending a letter. And yeah, maybe less elegant, but... you could even read one from B... Xander if it's email."  
  
"ohh..." With a slow sigh and a slight sniffle, Willow's eyes teared up. She'd reminded herself, reminded both of them of Buffy, who would never again send anyone a messily written letter. They both missed her, and it was this grief and the tears it inspired that had her eyes red and swollen.  
  
Giles put his hand on her shoulder, an awkward gesture of support. "I miss her as well. But... we can not cry forever. She will always be with us, a fragment of her lives on in each of us, as long as we remember her."  
  
"Yeah... but I'm still in the middle of the pain right now. Maybe you doing this thing for the council will help me, because then I can focus on that instead of the fact that she's gone, if that makes any sense." Willow's words were low, occasionally quavering with half suppressed sobs.  
  
"Are you sure that you'll be alright if I go to Toronto?" Giles couldn't help having second thoughts. As much as the idea of time away from this pit of death and disaster appealed, Willow was like a daughter to him.  
  
She looked up, her eyes sparkling just a bit with amusement. "Giles, I already told you I'd be... well, as okay with you there trying to muddle through the pain as with you here wallowing in it with us. I promise to do my absolute best to keep the Hellmouth safe, to stay close to sane, and to keep Xander, Anya, and Dawn as safe as I can. I will not give up. Tara will help me. Everything will... get better eventually. It has too."  
  
"Right then, it's just... hard to see you in so much pain." He wasn't quite sure what to say.  
  
With a quick hug, she whispered into his ear. "We feel the same about you. You've become our father, not by blood, but by caring. I think you need this too start healing. Go, be careful, send postcards."  
  
He'd smiled then, and gone to start packing his luggage. There had been some concern about the difficulty of traveling with weapons, but Willow had found a shrinking spell, and he'd been able to put a few things into a trunk, shrinking them to the size of a large lighter, something that he could fit on his carry-on. He almost changed his mind a dozen times, going through the 'are you sure I should go' conversation with all of them, repeatedly. They all assured him that they would manage, that he should go to start healing.  
  
Rupert Giles just hoped that they were being truthful when they promised that they'd be alright.  
  
By the time he'd boarded his plane, Willow had compiled a list of twenty six individuals born to the right families, within the age range of fifteen to forty. She'd found a few notes about some of them, married, divorced, some had children, some had addresses and phone listings down. Others were simply names, sometimes with a maiden name in parenthesis to reference which family she'd been born too. It was... vastly better than having approximately one and a quarter million possible candidates.  
  
He began shuffling his papers as the plane flew, confident that there wouldn't be much else to do during this five hour flight. And then there would be his time in Toronto, as long as he chose to stay. With a small groan, he tried to imagine it. Time, stretched before him, no more focus than to identify, track down, and figure out a few things about a woman. With a shudder, he resumed looking at his papers.  
  
There was the Lambert line, a solid family that had produced several watchers and a pair of potential slayers about seventy years ago, with two of them in the right age range, a Natalie who was some sort of doctor, and a Carol, with no other details. There were seven from the DuPuis family, a well respected and numerous family that had actually produced two Slayers in the last century, although neither had been in this area. One from the Ramirez family, long known for having affinities for magic and clairvoyance, a woman of twenty six named Clarice. The listing of names went on, with some having small biographies, and others little more than a name and family. He made a note to look a bit closer into Helene Kataloupas, with a note mentioning a history of breaking and entering and fighting.  
  
If only there was something simple, an easy way to say 'this is the one'. But if there were something that simple, wouldn't the various demons and vampires be capable of using it as well? Perhaps there was a benefit to the whole bothersome nuisance of having to watch and guess and consult old lists to determine who had the potential and who didn't. It was still frustrating when he was the person stuck finding the potential again since the idiot who'd been watching her before hadn't bothered to send the council anything.  
  
His first step would be to get some form of public transportation to his hotel. Closely followed by decent food and a map of the city, so that he would be able to try to find these people without getting entirely hopelessly lost. With a map, he could have a chance of finding his way out.  
  
When he finally arrived at the hotel, he managed little more than staggering to his room, dropping his luggage to the floor, and unshrinking the trunk of weapons before he sat down on the bed, intending to rest for just a moment or two. That was right before he fell asleep.  
  
  
  
end part 2.  
  
  
  
  
  
Natalie slumped in the chair, staring at the figure in the hospital bed. Tracy Vetter was lucky to be alive right now. She probably wouldn't have survived the explosion if it hadn't been for the simple fact that her partner Nick was a vampire. He'd dragged her out of the flames, leaving her where the paramedics could find her. Natalie had no idea what had happened to Nick, he hadn't been at the site of the explosion anymore when the officials and paramedics had poured in. She'd even asked LaCroix, but all he'd been willing to tell her was that Nicholas was 'still among those on this side of the veil', and Natalie was hoping that he'd meant that Nick was still alive... or something fairly close. Even if she and Nick had been forced to conclude that dating was a painful experience filled with torment, longings, and frustrations, she still cared about him.  
  
Tracy had been injured by flying debris, fortunately there had been no injuries to the spinal cord and apparently no damage to the brain, but... There had been bruising, and cuts that had been filled with slivers and splinters, burns, and there had been the possibility of some sort of chemicals in the smoke that she'd been breathing. Tracy hadn't woke up yet. Natalie kept watching, kept hoping. For Tracy's sake, for her own, for Nick's, and for Vachon. Tracy and Vachon were... well, not quite dating, but pretty close. It was obvious that they cared for each other. Every night, the quiet voiced vampire would slip into the room, his dark eyes filled with worry as he looked at Tracy, her body so still in the bed, mottled with bruises.  
  
"Has there been any change?" His voice, faintly accented, startled Natalie.  
  
"Don't... you could make a bit more noise, please." She tried to calm herself, feeling unhappily startled by the whole thing. "She hasn't woke up, but... her heart rate's better, and they think they might be able to take her off the respirator. Both of which are good, if a bit slow."  
  
He gave a small smile, settling himself into the other chair. When he spoke, his voice was thickened with worry. "How good are her chances? I... I don't know a lot about mortal healing."  
  
With a sigh, she looked once more at Tracy, this time looking at her as a possible case instead of a friend. "It's a tough call. She's had a lot of injuries, but... we both know that Tracy doesn't quit. That's what she needs to get through this and wake up, to be herself again. This is one of those tricky things though, I have no idea if that smoke could have damaged her lungs permanently. It's a miracle that she survived, but since she didn't go then... she should get better. It's just going to take time."  
  
"I was sort of hoping for something more specific." There was a tiny hint of humor in his voice as he looked at her.  
  
Nat shrugged, wishing that she could give him something more specific. "I'm sorry, but.. most of the people that I see are a bit past this. Already dead, and very few of them get any better. On that line, how's your leg?"  
  
"Better. But if it would help her..." His voice trailed of as he picked up Tracy's limp hand, looking at the woman who'd become such a vital part of his existence. "It's just not right to see her like this."  
  
"I know. It's just... what more can we do?" Natalie shook her head, feeling helpless.  
  
"You're right... it's frustrating. I don't want to try to turn her, if she didn't make the transition well... that would be worse than sitting here waiting." His voice was soft, almost to low to hear.  
  
Remembering the fiasco that had happened when she'd convinced Nick to turn her dying brother, Natalie shivered. "That... yeah, that would be much worse."  
  
"I'm sorry, you know." His words were directed at her, the sincerity in them obvious.  
  
Natalie blinked, wondering what he could possibly be apologizing for. "Sorry? This... we couldn't have prevented what happened to Tracy."  
  
He looked away, but his words were still clear. "I meant about Nick. I know that you... you care. Probably more than you should. But... I don't think he's coming back, Nat."  
  
"Maybe that was just doomed from the start." She paused, trying not to let the painful memories return. "It just... He wants to be human again. He thinks it's the only way that he can make up for the things he's done. And I can't.... I can't make it happen. It was tearing him up inside, and every time I had to tell him a test looked bad, every time I heard that defeat in his voice when something failed... That wasn't good for either of us."  
  
"But you tried. And maybe it will help him out that you don't look at vampires and see monsters." Vachon's voice was low, filled with too many things for Natalie to sort out.  
  
Glancing over at Vachon, she gave a small smile. "You have met LaCroix, right?"  
  
With a small chuckle, Vachon shook his head. "Well... not all of us, anyhow. He's... older."  
  
"I've had to learn something, being a coroner. The world is full of monsters. I see the proof of that every time I go to work. But most of them, most of the monsters that I see the work of are human monsters. There are simple rules that will stop them." She paused, trying to put the reasons that LaCroix frightened her into words. "He's different because... He's not human, he won't die, he'll never go away. And humanity... he hasn't got it. Individual lives don't matter to him. That's what scares me about him, not the sharp teeth. Well, mostly not the sharp teeth."  
  
"For the change to work well... there's something, a balance that has to stay. Between reason and instinct. He has the reason." Vachon's words were soft, contemplative.  
  
Natalie looked at him, finally thinking that she had some words that could explain the ancient vampire that had been Nick's tormentor and savior for so many years. "But he doesn't have the compassion."  
  
Vachon looked towards the window, the gleaming lights of the city lighting the sky. "There are worse out there than LaCroix. Those who don't try to control their instincts, those who loose... they loose the sort of thing that makes people care, that makes them want to connect. I think his just sort of shriveled, but... the Lost Ones, the Dark Ones... they shattered with the change. They give all of us a bad name."  
  
"Dark Ones?" Natalie looked over, almost uncertain if she wanted to know.  
  
"Those of us in the community... we're still people. Even the most cold and ruthless of us. But sometimes, a turning goes wrong. They're... not right inside, almost like... I was told once that the Dark ones loose their souls. That they have something else inside them, something evil and vicious." His voice was low, and his accent stronger.  
  
"Those... they don't live here, do they?" Natalie felt something, a cold shiver inside her bones at the mention of these Lost Vampires.  
  
"No... they don't live here. But.. they gather in places, dark evil places, and make them worse." He looked up, an almost apologetic expression on his face. "Sorry.. it's just... I see here there, and she's too still. Almost like... what makes her Tracy... isn't there. Makes me remember old stories."  
  
"Is that all they are? Nothing more than old stories?" She didn't want to know, didn't want to ask. But the words spilled out.  
  
"I hope so."  
  
  
  
  
  
end part 3. 


	3. parts 4 and 5

Giles began his efforts in Toronto by trying to learn a little bit about where everything was in the city. Not to the specific level of knowing the precise address of popular clubs, but on the more general level of what certain areas were called, and how to get 'there' from 'here'. Where were there subway stations, or cemeteries? Were there any areas with a particular number of abandoned warehouses or empty factories? He also looked at a museum, justifying that as a small reward for his efforts.  
  
He'd managed to find and speak a bit with Helene Kataloupas, and had concluded that she might very well be a potential Slayer. After putting ice over the black eye that she'd managed to give him, he'd called the Council, informing them of his discoveries and opinions on Helene, adding that there was every chance that she might still be called if something happened. He'd also categorically refused to be her Watcher, claiming a combination of emotional turmoil over Buffy's death and the fact that he still had a list of names to investigate, and could they be absolutely certain they'd only missed one potential? With the sort of punch that young woman had, if she wasn't a potential Slayer, she should be.  
  
With a younger watcher to haul her out of her juvenile delinquent ways. Someone that wouldn't be constantly shocked by her short short hair, the coil of earrings making their way up her ear, the stud in her nose, and the assortment of tattoos over her body. It seemed that he was a bit more conventional than he'd thought in his idea of who he could work with... But that was definitely a girl that would have no problems with the idea of being Chosen to fight. Even if she wasn't the missing potential, a good Watcher could help her make something productive from her life, give her focus, a guideline.  
  
He'd managed to learn a bit more about several of the other names on the list, and had met two others, almost by accident. He could now cross Deanna Manning and Tonya Walters off from his list, certain that neither of them were potential Slayers. He'd had minimal luck with finding some fo the other women, and was starting to remember why he'd been concerned about the whole idea to begin with. At least he'd found a few decent restaurants in this city.  
  
While he'd been able to eliminate a couple of the names from his list purely on the basis of some of the further information that Willow had sent. Sophia Cruz would not be called as a Slayer, not after an accident had left her sufficiently injured that she had a handicapped parking permit and resided in an assisted care facility. Chantelle Tanner had been killed, and so there was no further point in investigating her. But she'd also found three more names to add to his list: Naomi Linton, Tracy Vetter, and Cassandra Martin. Naomi was a nineteen year old university student, Tracy was a twenty six year old police detective, and Cassandra was a twenty two year old martial arts instructor.  
  
After a great deal of frustration, he'd sent an email to Willow, asking if she could find anything that would help him locate any of the remaining names, which he'd sent to her. He hadn't been quite certain what to expect, but had hoped for something more than what he had now.  
  
She'd sent him a rather prompt reply, with addresses for almost half of them, jobs for a few more, and at the bottom of the list was a note - Tracy Vetter was currently in the Toronto General Hospital after being caught in an explosion. She was recovering quite well, and had a record for excellent performance on the job. Willow had also said that weren't good physical skills, rapid recovery, and a tendency to do bravely heroic things traits in a Slayer or potential Slayer?  
  
Giles had been most glad that nobody had been able to see his rather undignified cheer. Finally, not only a promising candidate, but he would be able to find her with no risk of missing her due to work or errands. All he would have to do would be go to the hospital and check on her, that should help establish something. He could even go there this evening, which would lessen the chance of curious relatives, and perhaps he could simply appear to be a doctor, and take a look at her medical charts?  
  
Fortunately, his many painful injuries both as a Watcher in training and as a Watcher, especially since going to Sunnydale had left him quite well acquainted with hospitals. He had no difficulty choosing clothing that would enable him to impersonate a doctor, and minimal difficulty finding the right area of the hospital. The time spent looking for the correct room allowed him to clarify his plans a bit. He would examine her medical charts, attempting to remember anything particularly of interest so that he could ask Willow to look it up. If she was awake, or fairly stable, he could go into the room and take a look at her, perhaps under the pretext of checking her vitals. If there was the opportunity for questions... well, that might be a bit unlikely. Best just get an idea of her condition.  
  
She was the only patient in room 521, and he pulled her chart from the unit beside the door, leafing through the pages of her medical history with an eye for the overall story instead of the little details. No serious illnesses, numerous injuries that seemed to have come from active police work and an active childhood before that, no allergies, didn't smoke... good. Then, he looked at her recent injuries, the ones that had caused her to be here now. Everything had been bruised, burns over large portions of her body, assorted small cuts, a head injury, smoke inhalation... the woman was fortunate to be alive. What on earth had happened to her anyhow?  
  
"Dear me, Miss Vetter, what a mess you've become. Although you do seem to be recovering nicely." The words were a bare whisper, more a vocalization of his thoughts than anything else. He had no idea how rapidly his focus of attention would change in the next few moments.  
  
end part 4.  
  
  
  
Natalie had been a bit surprised to meet Vachon on her way to visit Tracy. He'd looked almost flushed, and had been fidgeting a bit. "Something wrong?"  
  
"Just... bad dreams." He'd tried to dismiss the idea, to make light of the matter. "I dreamed that she'd died. Now, I'm a bit anxious to make sure it was just a bad dream. The whole psycho babble nervous thing."  
  
Smiling at him, she'd nodded, understanding the idea of proving that something terrible had only been a dream. "I'm sure that Tracy is just fine..."  
  
Rounding the corner, she saw a man standing by Tracy's door, looking at her medical charts. That might not have been so unusual, except that she'd never seen him before. He was of average height, perhaps in his early forties, light brown hair with a touch of grey... not unattractive, actually. But he wasn't one of the doctors that worked here. "That's not one of her doctors."  
  
Vachon moved with some of that impossible vampire speed, and the man was pinned against the wall, Tracy's chart clattering to the floor before Natalie could even close the distance. She picked up the pages, returning them to the wall.  
  
Whoever the man was, he was being fairly quiet about this, or perhaps Vachon had simply squashed the air out of him. He'd managed to turn his head just enough that neither nose or glasses had been damaged, and appeared to be unarmed. Looking at him, she knew that she'd been correct in thinking that he wasn't one of the staff. He'd pass at a casual glance, but that wasn't quite the right clothing, and there was no name badge.  
  
"Take him into the room. I think we need to find a few answers from this guy." She tried to keep her voice from shaking as her mind assaulted her with flashbacks to the time when she'd been kidnapped by illegal organ harvesters, people who'd decided that she would be excellent spare parts.   
  
They moved into the room quickly, hoping that nobody had heard the charts clattering to the floor. Vachon was still holding the man, but he'd adjusted his grip a bit. Unfortunately, he now had his glowing green gold eyes and sharp teeth, thus causing the whole problem of now the stranger knew that Vachon wasn't normal.  
  
"Who are you?" Vachon's words were almost a growl.  
  
Natalie's own question, while a bit less menacing in tone, was just as demanding. "Why were you looking at her charts?"  
  
The man shifted a little bit, not exactly trying to get away, but in an effort to gain better breathing. "Rupert... Giles. I wanted... to find out something."  
  
"Not a very informative answer, buddy. Why were you looking at her charts? What did you want to learn?" Natalie could feel herself trembling. "And is that name supposed to mean something to us?"  
  
"It is simply... who I am. Formerly a Watcher." He shifted a bit more, looking worriedly at Vachon. "Can I be put back on my feet now?"  
  
Vachon let the man, Rupert Giles, fall to the floor, raising an eyebrow slightly when he regained his balance quickly and didn't fall. "The Council of Watchers?"  
  
The man frowned a bit, trying to straighten his clothing, possibly as a cover to try to calm his nerves. "As I said, formerly. I was fired."  
  
Vachon moved slightly, placing himself firmly between the man and Tracy's bed. "You aren't going to have her."  
  
Taking a breath as if to speak, he looked at Vachon's position, looked at his face, and let the breath out gain as a gusty sigh. "Dear lord, repetition is only amusing in literature. Another vampire involved with... This is getting ridiculous."  
  
Natalie was feeling quite confused now, especially since Vachon seemed to know what these Watchers were. And Rupert didn't seem at all surprised by Vachon being a vampire, although he'd definitely looked worried. "What's a Watcher? What's this council?"  
  
"Well... considering the nature of your... of him," a small gesture towards Vachon made it clear precisely who he was meaning, "I assume that you are well aware that there are more than humans that exist on this world. There are... a rather vast assortment of things, many of which can be quite dangerous. Watchers... well, the simple version is that Watchers watch, keeping records and making studies of the habits and vulnerabilities of dangerous creatures. But they.. they also fight some of them, and guide the Slayer."  
  
"What's the Slayer?" She felt confused, and had the sinking certainty that this was more of that whole mystical, things of myth stuff that she disliked.  
  
"A girl that kills vampires. Normally, they're puppets of the Watcher's Council." Vachon's voice was not happy, almost but not quite a blatant threat.  
  
"What? That's just crazy! Humans don't have the strength to fight a vampire, let alone go hunting them!" She could hardly believe her ears.  
  
Vachon shook his head. "Slayers are different. Stronger. But they never last long."  
  
"What does that have to do with Tracy? She's... she's not some supernatural killer." Natalie didn't like this conversation, but at least he wasn't here to kill Tracy.  
  
"Tracy isn't a Slayer. I'd be able to feel it if she were." Vachon was still glaring at Rupert.  
  
With a small sigh, Natalie shook her head. "I'm Natalie Lambert, that's Javier Vachon. We're both friends of Tracy's. We want to make sure nothing else happens to her."  
  
"You're Natalie... well, that's something at least. Not even a hint of Council involvement and you're up to your ears in vampires... Perfectly... not how I'd expected this to go at all." He sank into a seat, the one the farthest away from Vachon. He removed his glasses, cleaning them with a handkerchief.  
  
She had a sinking feeling in her stomach. "Why would the Council have anything to do with my life?"  
  
"Well... There are always a number of girls who have the potential to become Slayers, although there's only one at a time. Generally, the Council tries to monitor the potential Slayers, to ensure that they have the training they would need, and so that if they are Called, they have guidance." He paused, rubbing a moment at the new forming bruises on his arm. "They ahh... they lost a potential in Toronto. I was asked to come and try to identify her. Someone helped me get a short list of names, from families that have produced Slayers and potential Slayers before. Tracy's name is on that short list. So is yours."  
  
All Natalie could do was sit down.  
  
end part 5. 


	4. parts 6 to 9

"You're telling me that there is a whole group of people who follow girls and try to turn them into killers? Vampire killers? And that I might have been one of those girls? Are you out of your mind? I'm not some sort of killer, I'm not even a good athlete! I'm a coroner!" Natalie sounded very upset, and the vampire, Vachon was it? The vampire was glaring as well, still standing beside Tracy's bed.  
  
"How do you find out if someone is one of these potential Slayers?" The question was low, and it came from the vampire.  
  
Rupert Giles sighed, wondering again why he'd agreed to do this. Oh yes, Buffy had died, and he'd felt miserable in Sunnydale. Now, he was searching Toronto, finding two of the women on his list were both involved with vampires. "That's actually quite complicated. Partly, there are certain families that the potential runs in, so those families are supposed to be watched. Girls with extraordinary reflexes, a lot of physical abilities... often a quick temper are considered to be candidates. If they continue to show a bit of a physical advantage, maybe a bit better at noticing things, a bit less likely to get sick, healing a little faster... Those are all signs to look for. But I'm afraid there isn't anything to say for certain 'that one is, that one isn't'. At least, I don't know of such a way."  
  
"So these Watchers just find little athletes and make them into killers?" Natalie's question sounded as if she was attempting denial.  
  
"We prefer the term protectors. Slayers protect the world from dangers that most people do not want to believe exist." He frowned, wondering if the vampires here were so entirely different away from the Hellmouth that she didn't understand the danger.  
  
"The council never had trouble finding the Slayer." Vachon's dark eyes seemed to carry a subtle threat.  
  
"When someone actually becomes the Slayer, there is sort of... well, almost a mystical transfer of energy, sort of a supernatural inheritance. Actual Slayers carry an unmistakable aura, but the signs in a potential are much more subtle, and I was never good enough at reading auras to spot those little signs. A coroner? Why did you choose to become a coroner?" He watched the two of them, suspicious of the vampire, worried about Natalie. She seemed almost fragile, not physically, but emotionally. It was obvious that she cared about Tracy, and was taking her hospitalization hard.  
  
"What causes this mystical inheritance that you mentioned?" Natalie's eyes were full of questions, and she had the look of someone determined to unravel a mystery. It made her eyes sparkle like dark honey.  
  
Pain almost seemed to stab through him at her inadvertent reminder. "A Slayer is called by the death of her predecessor. One dies, another is Chosen."  
  
"They hunt the Lost Ones, don't they?" It looked as if something had just shifted into focus for Vachon. "The vampires that... they don't have anything inside to make them care, no worry over right or wrong, just... hunger. I was told that there was something that kept them from being too much of a menace, but..."  
  
"The sort of vampires that the Council worries about... They generally tend to be evil, soul less, and ambitious. For some reason, ending the world seems to be a popular goal." He shook his head, clucking a bit at the persistent folly of such an idea. Why end the world?  
  
"I became a coroner because I'd always had an interest in how things fit together. Then the idea of helping catch the people who just.. make everything stop, like breaking a toy... I'm good at sciences, and I can help people this way. Then, I met Nick, and... there were a whole new group of people that I could help." Natalie's voice carried both a wistful reminiscence and some more recent pain.  
  
"Both of you in 'helping' careers, both trying to keep people safer. That certainly fits the sort of thing that I'd expected, although..." Giles sighed, wondering if this Nick was another vampire, where he was, what sort of feelings Natalie had for him. Apparently, both of them had vampires that they were attached to. "If Tracy is a potential Slayer, she most likely won't be called, not at her age. But if she is, there might be a ritual that can help her heal from this."  
  
"Ritual? What, some sort of magic spell? There's no such thing as magic." Natalie's words were firm, perhaps covering worry or fear.  
  
He looked at her, glancing also at the now thoughtful looking vampire. "Magic is as real as vampires. It can be a powerful tool."  
  
"What sort of ritual? How would it work?" Vachon's voice was low, and his hand was over Tracy's.  
  
"Some chanting in Latin, the burning of certain herbs... It would temporarily give her the healing of a Slayer, for a while, a few days, maybe a few weeks. But that would only be temporary." He frowned, part of him wanting to carry Tracy to somewhere that she would be safe, another part arguing the ridiculousness of the idea. "Perhaps I should ask Willow to help with that..."  
  
"You think that some words and smoke will help her get better?" Natalie looked caught between shock and dismay.  
  
Vachon looked up, a small smile on his face. "What could it hurt, Nat? If it would help Tracy get better... Isn't letting him say some words and burn a few things easier, safer than the alternatives?"  
  
Natalie shivered, her eyes filled with memories. "And if it doesn't go right, we haven't lost... She'll still be the way she is now."  
  
He let his forehead rest on his hand, sighing at the situation. He'd found two maybe potentials, both involved with vampires, and seemed to have talked himself into attempting to mystically aid the healing of one of them. "And things just continue to move in unexpected directions."  
  
end part 6.  
  
He seemed so certain of this. Natalie couldn't help but understand that regardless of the oddness of his words, Rupert Giles believed everything that he'd told them. He really believed in this 'Slayer' thing, although the fact that Vachon also had known what he was talking about made her inclined to think there was something real and scary to that. But magic? The idea made her shiver almost as much as the idea that vampires were real had first done.  
  
But Vachon was right. If this ritual worked, Tracy would be better, and if it failed, they wouldn't have lost anything. But it still gave her the creeps. First vampires, now magic... what else would turn out to be real?  
  
"Will this ritual be very difficult?" She felt silly for asking, after all, how hard could it be to say some words and burn some herbs?  
  
"The difficulty..." He seemed to pause, as if considering the answer carefully. "The severity of her injuries are a bit of a complication. Maybe I should have Willow come to assist me..."  
  
"Who's Willow?" Part of her wondered if all of this would just be a dream, but she knew better. What she was less certain about was the reasoning behind bringing someone else here.  
  
"She's one of the people who help... helped Buffy. Willow has become quite proficient with magic, and is really much more powerful at it than I am." There was sorrow in his voice, and it made his eyes darker.  
  
"Buffy was the Slayer?" Vachon's words were soft, and there was something in his expression that said he wasn't quite so hostile towards the man anymore.  
  
"Yes, Buffy is... was the Slayer. She... died recently. Everyone is still rather upset about it." Tears glimmered in Rupert's eyes, and he blinked in an effort to keep them from falling.  
  
"You were her watcher, her teacher and this council just sent you here to do this... investigation while you're still grieving?" Natalie felt herself becoming annoyed at this Council. Maybe Vachon had a reason for getting upset at their mention...  
  
"They would have sent someone else if I hadn't come. And I still don't know what to tell them about you or Tracy. I might not tell them anything..." He shook his head, perhaps trying to chase away memories. "Willow suggested that going somewhere that isn't filled with memories of Buffy for a while might help."  
  
"You wanted to keep them from stalking everyone, trying to make them council puppets?" Vachon sounded thoughtful.  
  
"I learned a lot from Buffy. One of those lessons is that a destiny, or the potential of one, doesn't mean that she... any of the she's, actually, shouldn't have the chance for a life of their own." He sounded melancholy.  
  
"Tracy wants a life, just not under the shadow of her father. I want her to have that life." Vachon's words were soft as he turned back towards Tracy, one hand brushing the side of her cheek, the bruises almost faded.  
  
"We'll have to try to make certain that she gets the chance for that." Rupert Giles sighed, standing up slowly. "I will go back to my hotel. I'll most likely be back tomorrow or the next night, to check on Miss Vetter again."  
  
Watching him leave, Natalie sighed. "He's certainly different. How much... magic? Are those things for real?"  
  
Vachon shrugged. "I've heard about magic before. I haven't got any better explanations for a few things that I've seen..." He rubbed one hand over his shoulder, still bearing scars from Divia, the half crazed ancient vampire that had nearly killed him as a pawn in her vendetta against LaCroix. "But I know about the Council. He's right that they would have sent someone else."  
  
"I just hope that he's really the guy he appears to be. I'd hate to find out that we've been tricked." She sighed, wondering if there was any way to be certain.  
  
"That's pretty much all we can do. But if he hurts Tracy, I'm going to kill him." Vachon's words were oddly comforting.  
  
end part 7.  
  
  
  
  
  
Giles had called Willow in the morning, having spent several hours tossing and turning as sleep eluded him, chased away by thoughts of the two individuals that he'd encountered. Natalie Lambert... lovely, intelligent, possibly a potential Slayer, not that she would be called. He found himself wondering how she would look smiling, if she could dance, did she like a good curry? Then there was the vampire, Javier Vachon. It was appallingly obvious that he cared for Tracy Vetter, might even be in love with her. He seemed far more controlled than the average vampire, which would only make him more dangerous.  
  
So, he'd consulted Willow, talking with her about the ritual, trying to determine if she would be able to come and perform it, or if he would need to cast it himself. But there was apparently some sort of problem in Sunnydale, she refused to give him any details, insisting that they were managing just fine, but it meant that she couldn't pop up to Toronto. She'd asked questions about both Tracy and Natalie, and the process of answering Willow's questions had helped him sort out his own reactions. Tracy did sound far more likely to be a Potential than Natalie, considering her career, and the sort of things that went along with it. But Natalie had captured his interest.  
  
Willow had suggested that he should ask her out for a cup of coffee. He'd blushed, and stammered something that he could hardly remember, something about this not being the time to try to get involved with someone, something about she surely wouldn't be interested in a stuffy old Englishman with crazed ideas... Willow had promptly told him that he was making excuses because he was afraid that this Natalie would say no. Most irritating was the fact that she was right.  
  
He'd been forced to believe her. She'd insisted that he would be just fine performing the ritual, and that she could probably do something to send him a bit of a boost at the right time. It would have to do. Sighing, he'd began trying to find all of the proper ingredients. That had resulted in a rather amusingly frustrating search through the city, hunting for herb shops, occult supplies, even an organic food store, a place so unsettling that he hoped to never return.  
  
Finally, he had all of the required ingredients. All the proper herbs, sea salt for protection, white candles to symbolize a pure intent... Leaving them in a bag, he began to look through the book he'd brought for the proper words, the correct ritual. Finally, he found it, and meticulously copied it onto a clean sheet of paper. He murmured over the words, making certain that he remembered the proper correct pronunciation for all of them. Sunnydale had taught them all to be most careful of words in other languages. Especially when combined with magic.  
  
He made his way to the hospital, attempting to look like no more than another visitor, someone on their way to visit a friend or relative. Pausing in the gift shop, he bought a small arrangement of orange and yellow flowers for Miss Vetter, hoping that Willow had been right, that he could manage to help her. He refused to consider the possibility that she might not be a potential Slayer, that this ritual might not help her even if he did get it exactly right.  
  
Natalie was already in the room, talking to Tracy about something or other, it sounded like a cat? She glanced towards him as he entered, taking a second look as he placed the flowers beside Tracy's bed.  
  
"I hadn't expected you to bring her flowers." Natalie's voice was low, a bit husky as if she'd been speaking for a long time.  
  
Giles felt himself growing pink under her gaze. "I was hoping... Miss Vetter seems to be a most capable and competent woman. And a competent police officer... She deserves a bit of recognition. Flowers are a small gesture, but I have a great deal of respect for her chosen career."  
  
"And the bag? Is that everything for your... this ritual thing? Will it be very complicated?" Her voice was curious, and there were questions dancing in her eyes.  
  
"Yes, the supplies are in the bag. I do hope that there will be no interruptions... Most hospitals have regulations about burning things in the rooms." He smiled a bit, trying to relax. It wasn't as if he'd never spoken to a pretty woman before...  
  
"Her doctor should be in soon to check her vitals, and then there will be about four hours before a nurse comes in. Will that be enough time?" Natalie looked at Tracy again, touching a wisp of blond hair that had escaped to flop over a bandage.  
  
Smiling slightly, he settled in the other chair, wondering how long it would take the doctor to check Tracy. "Quite sufficient. The ritual shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes."  
  
As it turned out, the answer was that it didn't take the doctor terribly long. He did seem to be rather capable, although he seemed a bit remote. Perhaps he'd decided that his bedside manner was irrelevant when the patient was unconscious. He made a few notes on her chart, and left the room again, his shoes squeaking slightly on the floor.  
  
"Well... that was brief." Giles shook his head as he pulled out the candles, then the salt and the bowl with a sealed sandwich bag holding the carefully prepared herbs. He moved the chairs back, clearing an area of the floor which he would sit on for the ritual. He made a careful circle of salt around him, asking that this circle be safe from harm or disruption. Placing one candle to his right and the other to his left, he closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind of any doubts and worries.  
  
Natalie tried to smother a giggle as he produced a lighter for the candles. He smiled at her amusement, wondering what she had expected.  
  
He placed the bowl on the floor and carefully sat behind it, momentarily wishing for the flexibility that he was sure he'd had at twenty. Placing a handful of the mixed herbs in the bowl, he began the chant, asking for the forces of good and protection to grant healing for the woman who would keep people safe. At the end of the chant, he lit the herbs in the bowl, the smoke curling up. He started the chant again, knowing that it called for the phrases to be repeated nine times, a handful of herbs being burned at every third repition. The smoke tickled at his nose and throat, trying to make him cough, and he could feel the power being pulled from him, as if stolen by the smoke.  
  
Closing his eyes, he continued, missing the fact that the salt was now glowing faintly, the fact that the coils of smoke were all within the circle. Missing the fact that the candle flames were now pale green instead of yellow.  
  
The door opened on the seventh repition, and there were two figures in the hall. One was Javier Vachon, the other an older looking man, a bit shorter, with pale eyes, and pale grey hair cropped short against his skull. Both of them were dressed in dark clothing, but the other carried an aura of danger that far surpassed Vachon's.  
  
The pale glow from the salt flared brighter, rivaling the electric lights, and there was a popping noise from overhead. The light bulb went dark, and the shadows of the room changed, more intense, almost eerie. The candle flames had shot up, reaching as high as the candles themselves, long streaks of green over white.  
  
On the ninth repition, the smoke coiled out, surrounding Tracy Vetter before seeming to sink into her skin. The candles winked out, the green flames gone, leaving only the scent of hot wax and the glow of the salt circle was the only illumination.  
  
"Have we interrupted something?" The cool voice of the pale haired man filled the room, making Giles open his eyes in a flash.  
  
"Oh dear... this is getting to be a bit much." He looked at the pair of vampires in dismay. While the man beside Vachon wasn't showing fangs or vampire eyes, there was no mistaking that predatory confidence, or the feeling of age and power that surrounded him.   
  
end part 8.  
  
  
  
  
  
Natalie looked at Vachon, trying to figure out a way to ask why LaCroix was here that wouldn't sound rude. She wasn't having much luck. She was also surprised by the ritual. She'd expected nothing more than some words, maybe a bit of smoke. But that... she couldn't argue that something had happened. She shivered, a bit intimidated.  
  
"I did promise to keep an eye on Miss Vetter for Nicolas. I would be most remiss if I did not do so. Who is the spell caster on the floor?" He looked almost amused, although with LaCroix it was hard to tell exactly what he found amusing.  
  
"Everyone seems to ask that. Apparently Toronto has some gaps in communication. I am Rupert Giles." He sounded exhausted, as if he'd just run a marathon.  
  
"And did your spell help Tracy?" There was something, possibly the shadow of a threat in LaCroix' voice.  
  
With a small sigh, Rupert looked at the old vampire, not quite making eye contact. "That was what it was supposed to do. I can't tell at the moment whether or not it actually succeeded in accelerating her healing speed or not."  
  
"Your Latin has a decidedly provincial accent." With that pronouncement, LaCroix moved to Tracy's bedside, one hand touching her wrist lightly. "She does seem to be doing better than before."   
  
Natalie couldn't quite contain the question, although she tried to keep the accusation out of her voice. "You knew about magic."  
  
"Of course. It has been used by the physicians of the world for centuries. It was only recently that needles and charts replaced incantations and incense." There was definitely amusement in his voice.  
  
"What interest does the Council of Watchers have in Tracy Vetter" There was steel in his voice as he turned back to face Rupert.  
  
Scowling back, Rupert pulled himself to a standing position. "The Council doesn't know about her. I do, and I wanted to offer her some assistance in recovering."  
  
"I know someone with the training of the Watchers when I see one." LaCroix was frowning, threat in every line of his body.  
  
"They fired me, so I am no longer a member of the Council." There was defiance in Rupert's voice, and just a hint of worry. The circle still glowed around him.  
  
Tilting his head slightly, LaCroix looked at him. "Why did they fire you?"  
  
Natalie had that feeling again, the one where everyone else knew what was happening and she didn't. Glancing at Vachon, she felt a bit relieved by his look of confusion. If Nick had wanted LaCroix to keep an eye on Tracy... that definitely didn't sound like he'd be back any time soon, if at all. Something inside seemed to crumble.  
  
"I objected to my Slayer being subjected to the Cruciamentum. I told her that the Council considered it a Rite of Passage. They decide that I had become too attached to her. They fired me." There was something, almost like a layer of ice in Rupert's words.  
  
"When did this occur?" LaCroix seemed particularly interested, moving closer. He reminded Natalie of a cat stalking a mouse. He raised on hand, moving it slowly towards the air above the salt. There was a spark, almost like a moth contacting a bug zapper, and he frowned, pulling his hand back.  
  
"Two years ago. She came through it, and told the council that they were fired." His voice shook just a bit with emotions.   
  
"She sounds most... Interesting. Perhaps I can meet her." There was a lazy smile on LaCroix' face.  
  
"I'm afraid that won't be possible. Buffy... Buffy died this spring." He paused, as if trying to regain control of himself. "On her behalf, I thank you for the compliment."  
  
Suddenly, LaCroix frowned, looking back at Tracy. "What did you... ahhh. Congratulations, your spell worked." He turned to look at Vachon. "Keep a careful eye on her for a while."   
  
Natalie felt better as LaCroix left the room, closing the door behind him. "What was that about?"  
  
"She feels a little bit like a Slayer now. Probably a side effect of the spell." Vachon was at Tracy's side, smiling at her sleeping form.  
  
"I'm going to assume that the Council doesn't need to know about Tracy. That he was not quite suggesting that they shouldn't know about her." Rupert's voice shook just a little as he relit the candles, their soft golden light seeming welcome and comforting. He stepped forward, crossing the salt, and that glow stopped, suddenly cut off. The room was darker now, feeling more secretive, almost separate.  
  
Giles placed one candle on either side of the room, picking up the bowl carefully and rinsing it in the small sink. "I'll just... go let someone know about the light bulb."  
  
Before leaving the room, he carefully made sweeping motions with his foot, scattering the salt from the circle until it was nothing more than a spill on the floor. "Good night to you both."  
  
end part 9. 


	5. parts 10 and 11

Natalie stared at the door for a few minutes, entirely confused. "What just happened here, Vachon?"  
  
"The part where LaCroix was civil, the part where he sounded approving of a Slayer, or the magic spell part of it?" Vachon's voice was low, but held amusement and puzzlement.  
  
"Any of it." She still couldn't quite fit tonight into her previous view of how the world worked.  
  
Vachon was smiling a little bit, looking at Tracy's sleeping face. "Well... he said that Nick would heal better if he didn't have to worry about Tracy being unprotected. And I think he thinks well of her. The part about maybe thinking well of the Slayer... that threw me a bit. The magic spell... Did you feel that? It worked. It really did. She's going to get better..."  
  
"That's great." She smiled, feeling good for Tracy. This gave a better chance that she'd recover. " I have to go, I have to work tonight. Ellie said it was a pretty full house tonight, so..."  
  
"Be careful." Vachon offered as she left.  
  
The rest of her evening was filled with dead bodies. She wasn't used to thinking of this as particularly unusual, but she'd started to think about it after Rupert had left. Had there been something besides her own desires guiding her career choice? Could she have this potential that he'd spoke of? Apparently, there was only one actual Slayer at a time, but many people that could become one, that carried this... potential. The idea was a bit scary.  
  
It also made her think about things. Was there some higher power guiding people's lives? Was there such a thing as destiny? Had there been some purpose behind her encounter with Nick, some meddling force shaping her life? Did she have some destiny to be involved with vampires? Maybe she didn't go around killing them, but they were definitely a powerful influence on her life.  
  
But there had been too many disasters for her to blindly believe that some greater power was directing everything. Some people had more ability at some things than others, more strength, smarter, prettier, but that didn't mean grand destiny aiming someone for greatness, did it? Or did some higher power give a person these abilities and turn them loose, watching to see what would happen? She could almost see that, and the image made her shiver.  
  
Maybe she should talk a bit more with Rupert, learn a bit more about what else might be out there, something about how magic worked. Maybe if it wasn't such a mystery, it wouldn't leave her so queasy inside? He'd said he had been part of a group that existed to watch and guide, and she definitely felt in need of a little help to learn.  
  
It only occurred to her later that the confusion of this whole potential Slayer and 'magic is real ' thing had distracted her from the pain of Nick's disappearance. That she hadn't spent her day frowning and moping over the fact that he was gone, injured and unlikely to return.  
  
"You know, it's not very common to find someone willing to help a stranger. And that's all Tracy could be to him, a stranger." Vachon's voice was thoughtful, almost admiring.  
  
Natalie looked at him, a part of her wanting to protest that she did see that sort of effort. From police and firefighters.... but those were hardly everybody, hardly the typical person. Vachon was right, that sort of action wasn't ordinary at all. "I think... I want to like him, Vachon."  
  
"He seems rather likable, if a bit stuffy. And definitely English..." Vachon shook his head with a small smile. "But then again, everyone has to come from somewhere."  
  
She didn't have much else to say to him as she reported the light bulb burn-out in Tracy's room. She made her way to her office, part of her mind still dwelling on Rupert Giles. To dedicate his whole life to keeping people safe from demons and vampires... to expend years of his life teaching someone to fight them only to see her die... to help Tracy like that. It was amazing. She couldn't help but admire that sort of dedication, and determination. And he didn't look that bad either.  
  
Nat found herself wondering if Watchers were allowed to have relationships, to date, maybe even get married. Maybe... She shook her head, trying to chase away the half formed images and dreams. She had no business fantasizing about him. Which was why she should put him out of her mind right now. Well... maybe she could still be grateful that he'd helped Tracy.  
  
Perhaps she could meet him again, maybe learn more about the dangers that Watchers watch for. Maybe learn more about Rupert Giles the man.  
  
end part 10.  
  
  
  
  
  
Rupert Giles woke up, feeling stiffness in every muscle of his body. His eyes felt particularly gritty, and there was that lovely feeling of discomfort that came from sleeping in one's clothing. Slowly, he sat up, trying to figure out exactly what his situation was.  
  
Ahhh, yes. He'd gone to the hospital, performed a taxing magical ritual, held a conversation about Buffy with a very old vampire, and... hmm, he'd apparently made it safely back to the hotel, although that was really a rather distressing blur. He didn't have any clear memories of the trip back. But here he was, so he'd obviously made it.   
  
A shower and a change of clothing left him feeling a bit better. He'd certainly felt far worse, but he was still rather exhausted. Not sleepy, but drained, as if he had no reserves to fall back on. They'd probably all been used in the spell and holding the ward when that ancient vampire, what had his name been? the cross? no, that couldn't be right... But the ancient vampire had touched the ward. He'd felt it, the magics reacting to him as a threat, a dangerous presence.  
  
Finding himself a bit at odds, he wandered around the city for a bit, just relaxing and looking around. Not that everything was of particular historical interest, but it was good to learn more about the overall tone and mood of a place that he was staying in... And that almost sounded as if he wasn't planning to go back to Sunnydale. Did he want to stay here? He prodded at the idea much as a child will poke at a loose tooth, and decided that what he needed right now was food. Spotting a small restaurant that smelled particularly promising, he made his way inside.  
  
He was still looking over the menu, attempting to decide what he wanted when he heard a somewhat familiar voice.  
  
"Mind if I join you at your table? The place is a bit crowded, especially in the non smoking section." Natalie sounded almost cheerful today.  
  
Looking at her, he tried to smile in a friendly manner. "Of course, please do."  
  
"What you did for Tracy... she's already made some noticable improvements. It's amazing." Natalie's voice was low, an obvious attempt to keep the words private. "I wanted to say thank you."  
  
He looked at her, feeling unexpectedly pleased by her words. How many times had someone thanked him for his knowledge? It was not one of the most common experiences of his life. And a thank you from such a lovely woman, with eyes like honey and hair like amber over dark velvet... It made him feel warm and off balance and sort of floaty inside. "err... You are most welcome."  
  
She smiled at him, this mysterious woman smile that said she knew things that he didn't, and looked at her menu. "Were you in a hurry to go back to... Sunnyvale, was it?"  
  
"Sunnydale, actually." He corrected the name almost automatically. "I wouldn't say that I'm in much of a hurry. I do have things there, and a few people that I wouldn't want to loose touch with, but... There's a lot of pain there, and most of it hasn't had a chance to fade. I'm in no hurry to go back, and I'm not entirely certain that I want to."  
  
"Well, if you're not leaving immediately, maybe I can help show you around a bit?" Her eyes had a warm sparkle to them, and her smile was welcoming.  
  
Why did it suddenly feel so warm in here? Rupert took a drink of cold water, and looked back up at the smiling face of Natalie. Could she be flirting with him? Or was this just a natural warmth and friendliness? "I think I'd like that very much, actually."  
  
It seemed that Toronto was filled with unexpected things. Not only a more civilized type of vampire, and potential Slayers with real jobs and lives, but the possibility of a new start. And a lovely woman that might be flirting with him. Add in the fact that Toronto seemed to be an interesting city, and... well, there was all sorts of potential here. He just might stay for a while.  
  
end part 11. 


	6. Parts 12 and 13  the end

Natalie found herself smiling as she reflected on her lunch. Well, more like dinner for people who worked during the day, but lunch for people working the night shift like she did. Rupert Giles was definitely charming, and surprisingly decent and sweet. Not at all what she would have expected from the descriptions of these Watchers. But he was a good man. And she just might be developing feelings for him, the sort that could grow into quite a lot.  
  
She just might end up in a relationship with him. The idea felt odd to her. She'd had that extremely frustrating sort of relationship with Nick for so long, gone through so much with him, and that had crumbled. She wasn't certain if she was ready to try dating again, but... Something told her that she might find out if he stayed. Not that she thought that he'd be pushy about it, but... He had an appeal to him.  
  
Rupert Giles would never be Nick, and could never fit into quite the same place in her heart that Nick had filled. But... that didn't mean that she might not be able to care about Rupert as well as Nick. Especially as it seemed that Nick would be in her past, not her present or future. If Rupert was going to be in her life in the near future, did that mean that he might be in her heart as well? She had to admit that the possibility was there. If he stayed, she might get attached. But did that mean that he would care? Was she even the sort of woman that would appeal to him?  
  
"Tracy's doing a lot better now." Vachon's voice came from the darkness of the morgue, causing her to jump in surprise.  
  
"Don't do that!" Natalie tried to calm herself down, wondering just what it was about vampires scaring people all the time.  
  
Vachon chuckled, flipping the lights on for her. "Sorry." He didn't sound particularly apologetic. "I wanted to share the good news. Tracy woke up today."  
  
"Really?" She could feel excitement and hope bubbling up inside, and she smiled, impulsively hugging Vachon. "That's wonderful!"  
  
"Yes, really. I wouldn't joke about that. But she was awake, and I got to speak with her for a few moments. She fell asleep after that, but it was a real sleep, not passing out again. She was trying to figure out how she'd got to the hospital." Vachon was smiling, but it was obvious that he was also a bit worried.  
  
"Actually, it makes sense that she might be a bit confused. Wasn't she out when they originally took her to the hospital? So, the last thing that she would remember would be either right before or as things blew up. Hopefully, that's all of it. She should clear up in a few days." Nat could feel the delight at his news. Tracy was getting better.  
  
Vachon gave a small nod, his eyes filled with thoughts and questions. "I hadn't considered that. But it's a good point. So... how did your day go?"  
  
She found herself blushing. "I... had lunch with Rupert. He seems very nice, and he might be staying in Toronto for a while."  
  
He just chuckled in this almost smug manner. "Staying, hmmm? We'll have to see how that works out. I'll leave you to your patients, and go be annoyingly happy elsewhere. Urs and Screed have been worried about her, and they should hear that she's doing better."  
  
"Tell Screed hi for me, alright?" She smiled a bit, thinking of the unexpectedly likable Carouche vampire. Screed and his diet of rats... it sounded vile to her, but if he was content on it, and didn't feel the need to seek human blood, what could she do? It wasn't as if she'd been able to get anywhere with Nick and his search for humanity anyhow.  
  
"Absolutely." And with a slight whooshing, as if a sudden gust of wind had filled the hall, he was gone.  
  
Nat shook her head, considering the many times that Nick had made similar exits. "They must get a flair for the dramatic along with the fangs."  
  
But it was as if everything was looking better right now. Tracy was getting better, LaCroix was behaving, and there was Rupert Giles... Yes, the future was looking better all the time.  
  
end part 12.  
  
Rupert Giles looked around his hotel room, attempting to see if there was any reason why he might not stay in Toronto for a while. The Council could go soak their collective heads, his family... well, Toronto was as good or bad as Sunnydale to them, and Willow had assured him that they would be alright. Maybe he should call and check on the children anyhow...  
  
It wasn't until he was actually dialing he number that he realized that he was happy in Toronto, and really was hoping that he could stay. When was the last time he'd felt happy about where he was?  
  
Willow sounded a bit breathless when she answered the telephone, as if she'd just gotten there in time. She asked how the food and the weather were, and if he'd been safe from any of the potential real crime that might occur in a big city. He'd chuckled at that, assuring her that the only crime he'd been subjected to was terrible transportation and this one dreadful restaurant.  
  
He'd started going through the list of names, telling Willow what he'd found, explaining the situations and his analysis of them of the names on his list. It wasn't until the end when her voice gently prompted him about Natalie and Tracy that he realized he hadn't included them. Which prompted the complicated explanations about those two women, leaving Willow snickering over the whole Vampire-Slayer thing.  
  
Then, she'd made a soft comment that had surprised him with its accuracy. 'You really don't want to come back, do you?' He'd stammered a bit, spoken reassurances that he still worried about them, still wanted them to be safe... But Willow had surprised him again with her next comment, spoken in a slightly teasing tone. 'It's Natalie, isn't it? You like her and want to stay in hopes of getting to know her better, personally, not professionally.' He'd found himself conceeding her point.  
  
Perhaps he shouldn't have been so surprised that she'd noticed. Or that all she'd done was offer a small, sad chuckle and the words that 'it was okay to want to be happy for a while. If you think that maybe you can find a bit of happiness in Toronto, stay for a while. Just don't forget to keep in touch.' In essence, she'd given him her blessing to stay here, to try to be Rupert Giles, not Giles the Watcher.  
  
He was feeling much better as he hung up the phone. Toronto wasn't a perfect city, and things here might not be perfect, especially not if that ancient vampire continued an interest, but... But there was a lot of potential here. It was a vibrantly alive city, a place that wasn't slowly drowning in evil, wasn't slowly shrinking and dying from a plague of demons. A place that wasn't as caught by tradition and 'it's always been done that way' as London, but with a sense of history and pride in the past. And yes, Natalie was here as well.  
  
He wasn't certain what would happen between them, but he couldn't deny that she captured his interest. She was lovely, intelligent, and aware that humans were not the only things here, aware that there was real evil. But more than that, she was a vibrant and captivating woman. He wanted to stay, to see if maybe something might develop between them, if there was a chance, the potential for a relationship. But he would never know unless he stayed.  
  
Of course, he would need to find somewhere else to live, a flat or possibly a small house. He certainly didn't think that he could stay here forever at the Council's expense... and he would need a job. Bother, he'd almost managed to forget all the things that went into moving to a different city. But he thought that it would be worth it.  
  
It was time to begin looking for a new home. Fortunate that the Cuuncil would continue to pay for this hotel room until he found one. That eased the urgency of the situation, but he didn't want to depend on the fickle generosity of the Council. He wanted to build his own new life. And if somehow, Natalie Lambert became a part of that new life... Well, that could only make things a bit better.  
  
Time to go check on Miss Vetter. He wanted to see how she was healing, if the spell had truly helped her. Besides, he was curious about her. What sort of person was she? He knew about her job, knew about her medical history, but that could only tell you so much about a person. Perhaps it would be good to meet Tracy Vetter the person, instead of the medical file of Vetter, Tracy L.  
  
Walking through the halls of the hospital, he sighed yet again. It was far to easy too put on the right clothing and just walk into the hospital. What if he was a violent man? What if someone was after one of the patients? But there wasn't anything that he could do about it. He made his way to Tracy's room, slipping inside.  
  
"Are you another doctor?" Her voice was a bit hoarse, but alert.  
  
He smiled, delighted with the improvement in her condition. "Not precisely. My name is Rupert Giles, and I just wanted to check on you. Natalie and Vachon have been very worried about your recovery."  
  
"You know Vachon?" Her voice held a bit of puzzlement. "But you aren't... I don't know you.  
  
"We are recent acquaintances. He's been very worried about you, actually. How do you feel?" Rupert smiled just a bit.  
  
"Today is not my best day. My back hurts, my head feels fuzzy inside, and there's this funny buzzing feeling... But I think I'm getting better." She made a small smile. "One of the nurses... if I'd been hit just an inch more to the right, I'd be paralyzed."  
  
The door opened, revealing Vachon with a bouquet of blue flowers in his hand. He smiled when he looked at Tracy. "Hey there, Tracy. Glad to see you looking better."  
  
"Vachon..." Tracy smiled, obviously happy about more than the flowers. "I was hoping to see you."  
  
Giles chuckled a bit, watching the pair smile at each other like a couple of love-struck teenagers. "I think that you will be just fine, Miss Vetter. Regardless of what anyone else has to say about the injuries."  
  
Sometimes, a good deed was it's own reward after all. They looked so happy... Let them enjoy that happiness while they could. And maybe, just maybe, there might be some happiness in his own future. Images of hazel eyes and honey colored hair swirled through his mind, and this time, he didn't push them away.  
  
  
  
end Potential. 


End file.
